


On the Trail of Birds

by Scattered_Irises



Category: Yu-Gi-Oh! ARC-V, Yu-Gi-Oh! Zexal
Genre: Alchemy, Bards, Fantasy Language, Gen, Magic, Medieval Fantasy AU, Slightly gory descriptions, War
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-28
Updated: 2020-11-28
Packaged: 2021-03-09 21:14:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,752
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27752890
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Scattered_Irises/pseuds/Scattered_Irises
Summary: Two undercover spies—a princess and an alchemist—work against the clock to find the mysterious Pale Mare's Birds. Rumored to be disguised as bards, the Birds have been slaying Academia soldiers wherever they go. They leave no survivors after their battles, the fields strewn with maimed corpses in their wake. A feather from either a nightingale, falcon or raven is left at the scenes as their signature, daring King Leo's forces to come closer. As the Academian forces draw closer to the Birds, the disgraced princess and the mysterious alchemist must set aside their differences and find these potential allies before King Leo's forces do.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 4





	On the Trail of Birds

**Author's Note:**

> Written for a friend during a Secret Santa exchange. I was asked to do something with Rio and Vector.

Through the trees, a shout was heard. Another scream followed. And then, silence. They ran on quick feet, the wind at their backs and the trees at their sides. Through streams, through rocks, through burrows they ran. The distant sound of a lute brought fresh resolve into their hearts. Soon, soon, they’d be on the trail of the Pale Mare’s Birds. The raven, the nightingale and the falcon. 

When they arrived at the camp, they paused, beholden to the scene of carnage before them. Burnt bodies, rifled with holes and gaping wounds stared back at them. The young woman stepped forwards, inspecting a hole in a body. _An arrow,_ she surmised. Pulled out and returned to the quiver, she suspected. The Birds were always reusing their arrows until the very end. 

“Average work, as always,” said her partner, uncapping his waterskin and taking in a deep gulp. 

He frowned as he passed by a corpse with its skull bashed in, the charred skin shining black underneath the heat of the sun. Surely, they had more efficient ways to dispose of the bodies? Why haphazardly burn a man when his skull had already been caved in with the likes of a warhammer? 

“They’re enthusiastic though,” acknowledged Rio grudgingly as she moved a body out of the way. 

The enemy’s insignia shone on the breastplate and she kicked it aside. Vector spat on the corpse and proceeded to follow Rio. 

“They’re causing trouble for the resistance,” he muttered. 

Rio quickly shushed him, her eyes darting back and forth. 

“Be careful. You never know who’s listening,” she whispered. 

Self-consciously, she polished a badge similar to the fallen soldier’s on her chest. Vector looked down at his own badge and rolled his eyes. 

“This infiltration mission’s gettin’ on my nerves,” he hissed. 

“Our King knows what’s best,” said Rio tersely, roaming the campgrounds for the Birds’ keepsake. 

“To hide?” snapped Vector. “The Academian forces have the entire run of the country because of his hiding!”

“Would you rather him be killed?!” shot back Rio. 

“He’s already as good as dead!” 

Rio picked up a fallen Academia soldier’s spear and threw it past Vector’s head. The low whistle of the spear as it cleaved the air filled the silent campside. Her magenta eyes glimmered with rage, a snarl threatening to tear her face in half. 

“Say that about my brother one more time and I’ll make sure it strikes your heart next time,” she threatened, fists shaking with rage. 

Vector raised his hands in mock defense, pursing his lips in a pout. 

“But where would the fun in that be, princess?” he whined. 

Spotting a dagger, Rio grabbed its hilt and edged it towards Vector’s throat. She looked into his nonplussed amethyst eyes and snarled. 

“Once we reclaim our kingdom, you’ll be the first on the execution list,” she warned, pulling away. 

“It was only a plot!” protested Vector with a grin. “The difference between me and King Leo is that I never acted on my plans!” 

Rio threw the blade aside and continued to walk through the burnt campground. The charred remains of tents blew by in the wind. A half burnt flag weakly fluttered from the top of a crimson tent. Her footsteps crunched on the black grass, the smell of burnt flesh overwhelming her senses. She took a suspicious glance back at Vector, narrowing her eyes when he playfully shrugged in response. 

Even before his plans had been revealed, she had never trusted him. Professing to be from foreign lands across the sea, Vector had brought with him an array of powders and metals, claiming that he was an alchemist of sorts. Before her brother, he had impressed the court with his fire paintings and his ability to seemingly conjure bursts of color from thin air. Quickly, he had been inducted into the ranks of the kings’ alchemists. 

One by one, the courts’ alchemists began to disappear or resign. Once only a handful of alchemists remained, Vector had been promoted by the kings’ officials to be the master of events. In hopes that he would be isolated from the few remaining alchemists, the kings’ officials never foresaw how much power his new position had given him. At banquets, Vector’s displays became more elaborate. Green, blazing phoenixes would bloom from his sleeves. The winter masquerade featured a band of fire, including a roaring lion serving as percussion. During the lovers’ festival, he had presented Rio with a blood red flame rose. 

Of course, Rio had not been the only one to have distrusted him. Her brother slowly grew to despise Vector for his lackadaisical nature and casualness with court proceedings. The captain of the army, Durbe, had also suspected that Vector was involved in the dark arts. Yet the rest of the king’s council had either treated him with respect, awe or fear. Through the halls, she had heard of the rumors following the court’s mysterious master of events. 

She doubted many were true, for Vector had always been tight-lipped about his past, yet with the way he controlled the flames and how he seemed to blend into the shadows, she could not help but wonder if he was human. One popular rumor was that he was a Bone Cult defector. Although none of King Ryoga’s court had ever set eyes on a Bone Cultist, they had blindly spread the rumor. Residing at the fringes of the realm, the Bone Cultists were said to be the guardians to the afterlife. They led spirits to and fro, oftentimes with alchemized fire. 

Darker stories told of Bone Cultists bending spirits to their will, using them to spy upon the faraway kingdoms. In those tellings, it was said that they could revive the dead and enthrall them through a series of binding rituals. Songs and spells to be sung and chanted within the presence of a flame dance. Capes of radiant fire and molten gold on their backs. Treasures untold filling their dark towers. A tongue spoken only by the cultists and the dead and inaudible to the living. Skin flecked with various gems and precious metals, a payment for their services to the realm. 

Some of the rumors were too fanciful for Rio’s tastes, however, on her journeys with Vector, she would occasionally see him growing glassy-eyed and still. Usually at sunset and whilst she was preparing their meal for the night, he would walk a ways off and do so. Supposedly, she was not supposed to see him in such a state, for whenever she stared at him, something in Vector would prickle and he would immediately turn and meet her curious eyes. 

“A nightingale feather this time,” mused Vector as he picked up a brown feather. 

Rio turned around, shaken out of her thoughts. At the slain commander’s desk, Vector playfully twiddled the feather about. He met her surprise with a smile. 

“We’re close. I can sense them.”

She didn’t ask how he knew. One thing she has to begrudgingly admit was that Vector’s sense of another beings’ presence was impeccable. Grabbing the slain commander’s badge from his chest, she pocketed it and exchanged a glance with Vector. Without another word, she tightened the strap around her shoulder and followed Vector out the ruined tent. They arrived on the trail, where a wagon’s wheel ruts could be seen. 

“Finally!” she breathed.

“I’ll go on ahead. You send a letter to the general about this camp,” called Vector as he broke into a run. 

_Curses._ Reluctantly, Rio took the whistle out of her breast pocket and blew into it. She then sat by the side of the road and rested her satchel besides her. Soon, she had parchment, a quill and a bottle of ink by her side. Resting her book on her thighs and the parchment on top of it, she dipped her pen into the ink and began to write. Distantly, she could hear the baying of the messenger hound. 

_General Misawa,_

_Scouts 809 and 810, Ra Yellow reporting. We have confirmed the destruction and unfortunate sabotage of the Silver Stream Camp. The death of Commander Elodia was unfortunate. His badge is enclosed in the hound’s compartment. We are on the trail of the Pale Mare’s Birds. Rest well knowing that they will be brought to justice soon._

At that, Rio paused. By then, she and Vector would have hopefully escorted the Birds to the resistance’s forces, their infiltration into the enemy’s forces complete. She scratched her neck, grimacing at the tightness of the Academia uniform. How she longed for her Poseidon silks and sandals. How she longed for the dark green dye to leach out of her hair and see it return to its natural blue hue. How she wished to untie her hair and feel it fly freely in the wind. Dipping her quill into the ink one last time, she finished her letter. 

_The Birds are heading due north, most likely towards the Black Vale encampment. Please send your troops there._

With a flourish, she signed her and Vector’s false names and left the parchment out to dry. The baying of the mechanical hound grew closer and she grimaced. Licking her finger, she then stuck her thumb out. The north winds were beginning to stir up its frigid airs. Hopefully, the Academian forces would be deterred with this detour. For now, she and Vector would be heading east. 

She rolled up the parchment and looked into the distance. The steam from the hound and its dark metal plating seemed to swallow all of the light that touched it. Once the time came to dispose of it, Vector had assured her that he had a plan. _Clink. Clank. Clink. Clank._ Combined with the hissing of the steam, she could not help but think of her brother’s band of hunting dogs. Yet this recreation of it, in heavy metal gears and solid titanium, seemed to be a crass imitation. 

Sticking her hand out, she closed her eyes as she felt the heat emanating from the black hound. With a creak, the mechanical hound’s mouth opened and took the letter from her hand. 

“Wait,” she called, fishing the commander’s badge from her pocket. 

Obediently, the hound turned to the side and a compartment stuck out. She hesitantly deposited the badge into the drawer and winced as it pulled shut. It had only been a few months ago that one of these hounds had torn open a guardsman. 

“That is all,” she said, swiping her hand across the hound’s head. 

With a mechanical bark, the hound bounded off from the direction that it had come from. 

She knew that it had always found her and Vector, no matter where they traveled. From dusk to dawn she had tried to find its red eyes, yet could never find it. A faithful messenger and weapon for Academian troops. A constant reminder that she and Vector were never safe. She couldn’t wait for the day that Vector disposed of it. 

Looking in the direction of the wheel ruts, Rio packed up her writing utensils and took a drink from her water skin. She slung her bag around her shoulders and began to run. 

* * *

  
“I was close!” claimed Vector. “And then…!”

Rio frustratedly stirred the pot of beans, her brows furrowing. She wondered where the hound was on its journey towards General Misawa.

“There was a fox, Rio. With a black pelt and red eyes.” 

_Cut the crap._ She ignored Vector’s voice and continued to stir the pot. She angrily threw a pinch of salt in from her pouch. 

“It was _evil,_ ” breathed Vector. “I could sense its malevolent spirit in waves. Pitch black.” 

“Like you?” snapped Rio. 

A flicker of hurt filled Vector’s eyes but he remained silent. 

“Did you even see their wagon?” asked Rio. 

“They were just over the hill before the fox…” 

“For Poseidon’s sake, there’s no such thing as black foxes!” snapped Rio.

“It must have been a familiar,” continued Vector. 

He nervously looked around, fiddling at his buttons. Rio harrumphed and added more kindling to the cooking fire. She’s had enough of Vector’s stories. Although he was able to fool the court with his tales of grandeur, she had always seen past them. At his core, Vector was a con-man of the highest caliber. Who knows? Perhaps he was actually working for King Leo and leading her down a wild goose chase. He’d turn her in and sneer at her angry features as she was led away. 

As the soup began to boil, Rio added a bit of dried cloves to the pot. She breathed in their heady scent, transported back to the palace kitchens for a short while. This far inland, fish from the sea was a luxury. How she longed to sink her teeth into the tender flesh of the moonfish! Yet all she and Vector could make do with were gamey birds and the occasional rabbit. 

Hesitantly, Vector walked up to her and passed her sliced potato pieces. His once relaxed amethyst eyes were now frantically looking back and forth. When she looked at him, he briefly held her steely glance before looking away. 

“You don’t believe me, do you?” he whispered. 

“No, I don’t,” muttered Rio, setting down the ladle. “I never did.” 

There’s a twitch in Vector’s eye as his hand comes to the dagger at his side. 

“I think someone’s looking for me,” he whispered. 

“Yes, everyone from the Kingdom of Poseidon wants your head after your plans to assassinate my brother were revealed,” drawled Rio. 

She gazed at the potatoes as they sunk into the red soup, reminding her of bits of flesh on the battlefield. She ignored Vector’s nervous titter and the sound of his dagger scraping out of its sheath. 

“Oh no, no, dear princess. I’m afraid you’re mistaken,” he chuckled. “I could flay and cook every single scrawny member of your council and guard and you know that very well. Not even Durbe could stand against me at my strongest.” 

Rio attempted to remain nonplussed, refusing to show her fear in front of the ex-court alchemist. An uncomfortable silence that prickled at her skin followed afterwards as Vector began pacing. Every step he took was silent, despite his sturdy leather boots. 

“The people who are looking for me are far worse,” he said. 

Every last potato slice had sunken into the soup. Rio gave the soup one brisk stir and motioned for Vector to give her the bowls. After some shuffling around, Vector handed her their wooden bowls. Rio’s was marked with a blue rim. His was marked with black. As she poured the soup into their bowls, she couldn’t help but notice that some of the paint was chipping. She’d have to repaint them before they became less visible. 

As they sat down to their meal, Vector continued to look around. She noticed that his hands were slightly quivering as he held the bowl and spoon. Perhaps he was destined to be on the stage. He would have done so well with the Lily Veil troupe. Even as Vector ate, there was a restlessness to his pace. Usually a picky eater, he seemed to quickly consume everything in the bowl without looking. 

“How long do you think before the hound returns?” asked Vector as he rested his bowl down. 

He wiped his mouth with his sleeve and stood up, looking around. 

“Days,” replied Rio. “The western plains are a long ways off.”

_Crrshh._ The dagger slid out of its sheath again. _Crsh crash crsh crash crsh crash._ Rio grimaced in the midst of eating her soup. She looked up to see that Vector was sharpening his dagger on his special forge stone. _Alright, fine._ She angrily bit into a potato chunk and then swallowed. If he wanted her to play along then she would bite...for now. 

“What is it?” hissed Rio. “Who’s following you?”

A bit of relief filled Vector’s eyes and he stilled. He sat down before Rio and rested his dagger by his side. 

“Will you believe what I tell you?” he asked quietly. 

“Do I have a choice?” muttered Rio. 

“You do. The choice between believing and not believing is what kept you alive for so long,” replied Vector. 

Although his hands stopped quivering, his leg began to shake up and down. Rio sipped her soup, feeling the warmth slide down into her insides. A breeze brushed by her face and she grimaced. The cold season was approaching. 

“Go on,” she prompted. 

Vector took in a deep breath. _Like an actor before going on stage,_ thought Rio sourly. 

“Do you know what lies beyond the Abyssal and Rift Seas?” asked Vector. 

“Nothing,” said Rio evenly. 

Her partner raised an eyebrow.

“Do you not believe in legends?” 

Rio finished up the last of her soup and set her bowl down with a clatter. 

“Legends serve only two purposes,” began Rio. “For scaring children to sleep and for grand festivals.” 

A pitying expression filled Vector’s face and he shook his head. The condescending action made Rio want to punch him in the throat. 

“Be quick about this,” growled Rio as she handed the bowls to Vector. “We need to wash these before the sun goes down.” 

From the way the sunlight dyed the treetops a dusky orange, she doubted that there would be much time left. Without warning, Vector grasped her by the wrist, a plea in his eyes. 

“You must come with me,” he said. 

“Why? So you can slit my throat and dispose of me by the river?” hissed Rio. 

Vector let go of Rio’s wrist and frowned. 

“I have had many opportunities to dispatch you. Trust me, I would have done it by now if my heart was set on it,” said Vector, an edge to his voice. “For now though, we’re both serving in each other’s best interests.” 

“And when does that end?” drawled Rio. 

“When I cut open King Leo’s throat and your brother returns to his throne,” growled Vector. 

“Soon, I hope,” said Rio. 

“So will you come with me?” 

Rio slid her own dagger out of her holster and took a step forward. 

“Fine.” 

Vector’s shoulder slumped in relief as he turned around to walk towards the river. As they made their way down the path, Vector continued to look around warily. 

“The Voidlands exist beyond the two seas,” said Vector amidst the silence. 

“Have you seen them?” asked Rio, preparing herself for a fabricated answer. 

“Of course I have,” scoffed Vector. 

A breeze blew by, carrying with it the dampness of the river. 

“And are there truly treasures as far as the eye can see?” asked Rio. 

She’s answered by a chuckle. 

“More than your puny coffers could ever hold, princess. The dead have no need for treasures.” 

They walked down the steep hill leading to the river, gravel resting at their feet. Rio looked around and saw no one but them. She clutched the dagger closer to her chest. Vector knelt down by the riverside and began to refill his waterskin. The trees were now a reddish hue, the sun further down in the sky. Quickly, Rio took out her waterskin and uncorked it with one hand, the dagger in the other. Refilling the waterskin, she kept an eye on Vector’s expression as he refilled his. 

“Sunsets and sunrises are agonizing in the Voidlands,” began Vector as he capped his waterskin. 

He placed it by his side and Rio tightened her grip around the dagger. When he moved to take a bowl, she relaxed her grip a bit. 

“A flash of light fills the black skies and then we are left in a darkness blacker than night for a few seconds,” described Vector as he began to scrub at the bowl. “Can you imagine it? Being blinded twice a day?” 

Rio frowned. _Just another actor’s tale._

“The spirits that arrived with each sunrise and sunset made such a miserable racket,” continued Vector. “Don’t even get me started on the spirits that were going to be sent back in a new body.”

“So you’re from the Bone Cult of the Voidlands, huh?” asked Rio flatly. “Just like in the rumors?” 

Vector set the first bowl down and paused. 

“We prefer the name of Guardians,” he said, his eyes growing distant. 

He took Rio’s bowl and began to wash it, his motions slow and careful. Rio wanted to roll her eyes. 

“The waterways in the Voidlands are pitch black and viscous, like tar. The only source of clean water is from the fountain of purity. Not many of the spirits wished to drink from that, knowing of its powers to erase all memories,” reminisced Vector. 

“So then what did you drink?” inquired Rio, eyeing Vector’s bowl and its faded paint. 

Perhaps tonight she’ll paint it. 

“Crushed pearls dissolved in vinegar and then in blood for celebrations. Blood on normal days,” replied Vector. 

He set Rio’s bowl down and stood up, a hint of fear filling his expression as he saw the setting sun. 

“You forgot the spoons,” said Rio. 

Reluctantly, Vector sat back down again and briskly washed both utensils. He then stood back up, his eyes scouring the quiet landscape. Without a word, Rio followed him up the hill and back to the camp. 

“What were you doing here then? Did you conspire to kill my brother and then crown yourself king?” asked Rio with a hint of resentment. 

Vector turned around, a light briefly filling his eyes. 

“I was bored.” 

“That’s _it_?” asked Rio incredulously. 

She’s answered by a nonchalant shrug. 

“Your brother’s a prick and so’s his knight,” said Vector as they reached their camp. 

Rio balled her hand into a fist. _All of this trouble for the sake of boredom._ She sat down by the fire, warming her hands, her dagger beside her. Vector watched her curiously. _No wonder he had been so good at sensing where living things were. No wonder he had been so good at hunting and alchemy_. Either that or he was just an extremely talented actor. 

“As you’ve already suspected, a Guardian is not supposed to interfere with the rest of the Realm,” began Vector as he sat down. 

He took his own dagger out and began to sharpen it once more. A dangerous light filled his eyes as he looked at his blade. 

“The black fox earlier today must have been one of my people’s familiars sent as a warning.” 

“And what would I lose if I lost you?” asked Rio slowly. “The pleasure of severing your head from your neck?” 

Vector raised his hands in mock defense, a grin filling his features.

“My, my, I thought we were becoming close,” he teased. 

Rio glared at Vector. He knew that she needed him and his spirit sensing skills. Otherwise, it would have been like finding a needle in a haystack with the Birds. Vector’s hands fell to his sides and he resumed sharpening his blade. His face slowly began to grow distant amidst the _crish crash_ of his blade. 

“I longed to see the sun in the Realm,” confessed Vector. “I longed to speak to things that weren’t spirits.” 

His eyes were filled with an old light, far older than what his youthful form seemed to be capable of. 

“No matter where I traveled, it was all so new and fresh compared to the tepidness of the Voidlands.” 

“And you kept on moving to avoid capture?” asked Rio. 

Vector nodded and then scoffed. 

“I became complacent though. I thought that the Guardians would never find me. And so I decided to temporarily settle down.” 

He turned to Rio and then smiled, pity filling his expression at her unamused face. 

“When the time comes for you to die, you will be reduced to a wailing wreck just like the rest of them. So put on your brave face as long as you’d like. It won’t make a difference. I’ve seen them all.” 

Chills ran down Rio’s back and her eyes slightly widened. She looked at Vector then. Really looked at him. Something about his visage rippled and shimmered in the flames’ light. As if he were a mirage and the true Vector lay behind this mask. Before she could see beyond his illusion though, he shifted and the ripples vanished. Sadness filled his eyes as he gazed into the flames. 

“No matter what, I’m going to find the Birds before they take me back,” he vowed. “I’ve never lost a hunt before.” 

“So you won’t kill King Leo?” asked Rio gruffly. 

_Crsssh._ Vector swiped his blade across the forge stone with a flourish. A dangerous light filled his expression as he looked at Rio. 

“Not if the Guardians get to me first.” 

  
  


* * *

The town they were passing through had shuttered windows and an emptiness about it. What little townsfolk were out walked with brisk steps and wary eyes. Vector and Rio walked by the dimly lit apothecary’s store and saw a hunched figure behind the counter. Unease filled Rio’s body as she walked by the window. Vector also appeared to be concerned by the village, his lips pursed and his eyes shifty. 

“Something isn’t right here, is it?” murmured Rio. 

She’s answered by a nod, yet Vector carried on, hot on the Birds’ path. They briskly made their way through the winding streets and darkened buildings, ignoring the unwelcome stares of passersby at their Academian uniforms. As they made their way to the outskirts, they began to see bodies in the distance. They were huddled together, as if to shield each other from the incoming north winds. They picked up their pace but were quickly stopped by the smell of decay. 

Rio turned to Vector and saw his eyes flash with fear. Immediately, her hand flew to her dagger. 

“What is it?” asked Rio quietly. 

“Death,” hissed Vector. 

Covering their noses, they hurried on, closer to the crowd of people. When they arrived at the scene, Rio almost gagged at the smell and sight. Beside her, Vector paled. 

“What are they?” hissed Rio. 

She motioned to the black shapes behind the fences. Low murmurs filled the crowd as Rio and Vector approached. They parted the way for the two, uneasy at the sight of two Academian soldiers. 

“Cows,” uttered Vector. 

“A whole family,” said the farmer besides them, clutching his forehead in his hands. “How am I going to survive the cold season now? Is your king going to provide me aid?” 

“It’s a curse,” groaned a woman. “A dark spirit must have passed over our cows last night. No dead cow looks like that.”

Rio had to agree. The cows’ bodies appeared to be burnt and misshapen, flesh seemingly melted into the ground. Not even flies wanted to go near the carcasses. Meanwhile, Vector dug into his satchel and presented the farmer with a pearl. The man balked at the jewel in Vector’s hand and backed away. Murmurs began to bubble up from the rest of the crowd. 

“Please take it, sir,” urged Vector. “Your cows were not meant to die.” 

The man looked at Vector incredulously. 

“Was this taken from the bodies of one of ours?” he asked angrily. “I know of you and your ilk, wandering and stealing whatever you please.” 

The crowd began to grow hostile as the voices around them rose. The panicked unease from Vector’s face slid away to reveal a mask of gentleness. 

“Of course not, good sir. We are messengers of the great King Leo,” said Vector, producing another pearl between his fingers to a chorus of gasps. “We wish to present you with his generosity.” 

Hesitantly, the farmer reached for the pearls. When his fingers closed around the beads, he slowly drew back in awe. Vector nodded and gave the formal Academian salute. 

“To the greatness of King Leo,” called Vector. 

Raggedly, the crowd cheered back. Satisfied, Vector walked off with Rio. The further they got from the townsfolk, the less confident Vector seemed. 

“Why did you do that?” hissed Rio. “The commanders will hear of it and realize that I gave them false directions.”

A shadow fell over Vector’s face, his mask entirely slipped off. 

“It’s important to maintain balance in the Realms,” uttered Vector. “The farmers’ cows were not meant to perish. A Guardian had meddled with their fates, but along with that, they would have also killed the farmer and his family, further tearing at the strands of fate.”

“And why do you care about balance now?” growled Rio. 

“To buy myself some time,” answered Vector. “If I can restore a bit of balance to the chaos I’ve caused, perhaps I can stall whoever’s pursuing me.” 

Rio grimaced and pulled her coat closer around her shoulders. 

“How close are we to those damned Birds?” she muttered. 

“Close enough,” replied Vector. “The next town, most likely.” 

And so they continued.

* * *

_The cock crows cross’ the dawn_

_Greeting the chariot of souls_

_Areraiyo Areraiyo_

_Soon to carry the souls of my love Eliza and her dog, Lameer_

_To the lands beyond the Abyssal and the Rift Seas_

_Areraiyo Areraiya_

_Farewell, farewell, Eliza and loyal Lameer!_

_Til next sunrise we meet again!_

_Aregaiyo aregaiya_

The tavern is filled with the singing voice of a young woman. Her melodious soprano is accompanied by the sounds of a skin drum and a lute. Vector and Rio sat at the corner of the tavern, their eyes focused on the bards. They drank their mulled wine carefully, Vector always on the lookout. As the folk song drew to a close, the performers were met with raucous applause. Vector frowned and took a drink of his wine. 

“A voice like that belongs on the royal stage, not here, to be wasted on wastrels,” muttered Vector. 

Rio nodded in agreement. She stood up and began to walk towards the trio, mindful of her Academian badge. As she made her way through the crowd, she felt the hostile stares of the men around her. Reluctantly, they parted the way. All three pairs of eyes focused on Rio and despite their stillness, she could sense their hatred emanating towards her. The singer smiled, her painted lips matching her magenta eyes. With a flourish, she curtsied, her draped skirts brushing against the wood floor. The other two band members followed suit. 

“Officer,” she greeted cooly. 

“My partner and I were impressed with your performance,” began Rio. 

“Yes!” said Vector, walking up besides her. “In all my years, I have never heard a voice as fine as yours. Not even at King Leo’s palace.” 

He’s answered by a demure smile, the woman motioning for her bandmates to put away their instruments. 

“It means a lot to me that a soldier of Academia appreciates my work. Music, no matter from where, crosses all borders, no?” she asked. 

“I agree. Growing up, my favorite instrument was the bandoneon! All those delightful switches and keys,” chuckled Vector. 

“Ah, I see. Perhaps we could play together sometime,” said the singer. 

“Ah! Where are my manners?” asked Vector, sticking out his hand. “I’m soldier Julian, from the Ra Yellow division. This is my partner, soldier Merag.”

The trio of musicians greeted the two with aloofness, suspicion filling their gazes. 

“I am Ruri, this is my brother Shun,” said the singer, motioning towards the man with the drum. “And this is our friend, Yuto. Together, we like to call ourselves the Crimson Scarves.”

Rio nodded in approval. 

“I’m pleased to be of your acquaintance. Are you staying for the night?” 

“I’m afraid not,” answered Ruri. “We have a performance at the Marshwater Lord’s castle in two days.” 

“A true pity,” lamented Vector. “I was hoping to hear your voice again.” 

“Perhaps you will,” said Ruri. “The Realm is full of surprises.”

Rio could see the two waltzing around, both behind masks. It was like watching two tigers prowl about, unsure of when the other was to strike. She thought back to the celebratory cage fights back on the island, where two starving beasts were pitted together in the name of honoring Poseidon. Vector’s eyes turned to hers and an almost imperceptible nod came from him. She might as well cut to the chase and end the farce. 

“Ruri, would you mind if we accompanied your trio? We’re two soldiers on the lookout for a band of renegade bards.” 

Yuto frowned, closing his instrument case with a _click._

“Those bloody Birds give us wandering bards such a horrid reputation,” he lamented. “It’s difficult to find places to perform at nowadays, what with their senseless slaughtering of soldiers.” 

“We would love to have some company on our journey,” acquiesced Ruri soon after. “Where are you headed?”

“Towards the sea,” replied Vector. “We got a tip that the renegade bards are headed there.” 

Shun grumbled and Ruri turned to her brother sweetly. 

“I see. However, I must warn you that my brother is wary of strangers discovering his performance secrets.” 

Vector chuckled and glanced at Shun, gripping his drum close to himself. He gave the man a wink. 

“Before I joined the army, I was a wandering actor. His secrets will be safe with me,” he vowed. 

“I’ll be grabbing our payment and meals for the night,” muttered Shun as he sauntered off. 

Rio looked at the man’s receding backside, his posture straight and disciplined. She looked back at Ruri and saw the same grace and discipline. _The walk of the well-bred and well-read_. She could recognize that aura from anywhere. Yuto on the other hand carried himself with a slight hunch, as if making himself smaller than he actually was. He moved about silently, as if he were used to skulking through shadows and alleyways. 

“Do you find my brother pleasing?” teased Ruri, shaking Rio out of her thoughts. 

A smile filled Rio’s lips as she focused on Ruri’s silken locks of purple hair. 

“No, however, I notice that the both of you appear to have excellent posture,” said Rio cooly. 

“A thing sorely lacking in these hastily gathered armies these days,” griped Vector. 

Ruri giggled and beckoned the two over to a table. They sat down just as Shun arrived with a bag of gold, followed by a woman holding three bowls on a tray. The warm broth was set before each performer and they began to eat. Once the wine was poured and everyone had settled down, Rio and Vector looked around. They were located in the corner of the tavern, away from the other tables. Men and women gave the two envious glares, so close to the dashing musicians. The two exchanged glances and looked at Shun and Ruri. 

“ _Poseidon nak vaar?_ ” asked Rio to Ruri. 

_Do you speak Poseidon?_

Ruri raised an eyebrow. Her brother paused, mid chew through his bread. The siblings gave Rio a suspicious stare. 

Dabbing at the edges of her mouth, Ruri replied,

“ _Gaarid._ ” 

_I do._

“ _Trar’id?_ ” asked Shun suspiciously.

_Why?_

“ _Drivelvar Poseidon nak vaar?_ ” replied Rio. 

_Do you speak flower script Poseidon?_

The language of the poets, artists and spies. 

At that, Shun reluctantly shook his head. His sister on the other hand, replied with, 

“ _Ye’erd torrack,”_ admitted Ruri. 

_I am a beginner._

Rio nodded. _Good enough._ She ignored Yuto’s confused stare and continued on. Motioning to her badge and Vector’s, Rio began to make signs with her hands alongside her speaking. 

“ _A jeweled flower blooms in the gods’ playground_ ,” said Rio in flower script, her hands making the signs of crown and soldier. 

Ruri stared at her for a few moments, attempting to decode the message. After a few moments, her eyes widened. 

“What did she say?” muttered Shun. 

Vector shook his head, motioning to the crowded tavern. Shun hissed in annoyance and motioned for Yuto to quickly finish his meal. 

“As soon as we finish, we’ll take this outside,” said Shun. 

He quickly gulped down the broth and mopped the remnants down with his bread. Yuto followed suit. 

“ _The falcons soared across mountains, streams and rivers to find the aurora borealis,”_ continued Rio, once again creating the sign of the soldier. 

At the end of the sentence, she slowly motioned her hands to the sky, making Ruri’s eyebrows rise. As she quickly ate her meal, Ruri looked at Rio and Vector with a wariness. A part of Rio wondered how much Ruri could understand her. How much poetry had the girl read before this? How much had she studied the flower script? Once Ruri emptied her bowl, she nodded at Rio to go on. 

“ _Copper mirrors under the faded jeweled wolf,_ ” said Rio, accompanied by the signs for soldier and traitor. 

Ruri drained the last of her wine and finished up her bread. She stood up, a grave expression on her face. 

“Let’s go,” said Shun. 

They quickly hurried out of the inn, the gazes of the trio’s jealous admirers burning into Rio and Vector’s backs. _Oh, if only they knew._ As Shun hitched up their wagon, Rio and Vector climbed into the back, soon accompanied by Yuto and Ruri. They remained silent until Shun flicked the reins of the horse, the sound of the wagon’s wheels against the cobbled path drowning out their conversation. Ruri’s shoulders slumped in relief and she turned to Yuto. 

“They’re with us,” she said. 

Yuto exhaled and looked at Rio and Vector with a bit more trust than before. 

“She’s princess Rio of the Poseidon Kingdom. With her partner, they’ve been looking for us for months. They’ve infiltrated King Leo’s army,” explained Ruri. 

_Pretty impressive for a self-confessed beginner,_ thought Rio wryly as she nodded in affirmation. 

“And you three are the Pale Mare’s Wings,” said Vector. 

After a few moments, Ruri nodded. At the front of the wagon, they heard Shun scoff. The nightingale. The falcon. Rio turned towards Yuto, his dark cape giving away his title as the raven. 

“And what do you two want with us?” he asked. 

“We would like to invite you to join the resistance,” said Rio. 

A steely glint filled Ruri’s eyes. 

“The Academians are on the lookout for bards like you. Join the resistance and you’ll be safer,” said Vector. 

“We saw what you did to the latest camp. I wrote General Misawa a letter saying that you were heading north in hopes that I could buy us some time,” continued Rio. “However, it won’t be long until they realize that they’ve been fooled. And by that time, Vector and I need to disappear.” 

“And why should we join you?” asked Shun suspiciously. 

The lights of the town began to fade away, leading to the darkened countryside. Vector wet his lips and flicked his wrist, a flame appearing in his hand. Ruri and Yuto gasped in unison as they beheld his green flame. Briefly, Shun looked back and for a moment, shock filling his expression. 

“Because together, we might have a chance to bring down King Leo and return to our respective kingdoms,” said Vector. “Don’t you want to restore balance to this land?” 

Ruri and Yuto exchanged glances. Distantly, the cries of an owl could be heard. 

“How do we know that we can trust you?” asked Yuto hesitantly.

Vector unclipped his Academian pin and placed it into his hand with the flame. His flame turned white and began to melt the pin into a molten blob. The gold and silver twirled and pulsated, moving about in a graceful dance. After a while, the flame shaped the badge into a flower, each petal intricately formed. Ruri and Yuto watched in awe whilst Rio contemplated her own badge. Noticing Rio’s gaze on her own, Vector motioned for it. She soon unclipped her badge and handed it to Vector, where it was swallowed up by another white flame. 

As one silver and gold flower cooled in Vector’s palm, another one formed in Vector’s other hand. Once the two flowers settled in Vector’s hands, he presented it to the both of them. 

“A Guardian and a princess’ promise,” said Vector. 

Hesitantly, Ruri reached for the first flower. When she held it, she twirled it between her fingers under the light of the moon. She then set it down and turned towards Rio and Vector, their magenta and amethyst eyes glimmering in the night. 

“In these times, trust is a rare commodity,” Ruri murmured. 

Rio exchanged a glance with Vector and pursed her lips when she received a playful smirk. She met Ruri’s suspicious eyes with her own. 

“I would know.” 

  
  



End file.
